I'm at a hockey party, there's a theme (which is pretty irrelevant to anything I'm just trying to set a scene wherein not a soul is dressed in normal clothes [or really any clothes at all] except me because I refuse to wear pink leotards in public), and people are drinking cheap beer with a different green, apple flavored alcoholic beverage poured into it to cut the taste of shit. So we're essentially drinking apple flavored shit.
Anyway, so I'm sitting on one of the various nasty couches, sipping away, when a hockey player sits next to me. He is inexplicably clued into the fact that I blaze. Bizarre.
Him: Hey whatup.
Me: Hi.
Him: Do you smoke weed?
Me: Sure.
Him: Do you want to smoke?
Me: Absolutely.
Him: Do you have weed on you?
Me: Uh, yeah.
Him: Do you wanna go upstairs and smoke it?
Me: (getting suspicious) Maybe. What're we going to smoke out of.
Him: I can find a pipe or something. Do you have anything to smoke out of?
Me: Yeah, actually, I happen to have my bong right here in my purse.
Him:
Me: No, I don't have anything with me. I try to leave my pieces at home.
Him: Oh, so we should go to your apartment.
Me:
Him:
Me: No dude.
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